


Here be dragons

by Lyrial



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrial/pseuds/Lyrial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur is a particularly snarky dragon, and Merlin is his (not so) reluctant virgin sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here be dragons

**Author's Note:**

> A short snippet of a one-shot that may possibly be expanded into a full story when my muse returns, hopefully well after my finals are over. I enjoy writing banter, but plot details are a devil to work out and my inspiration kinda petered out after I had finished amusing myself with the initial idea of Arthur the dragon and Merlin the virgin sacrifice.
> 
> I kept getting the strangest feeling of déjà vu when writing this and so I got very anxious (as is quite common for me) that I was somehow subconsciously ripping off some other author whose work I’d read before. I did a search through the archive and asked a friend about it, which has somewhat mollified my concerns, but still I apologize if I have inadvertently plagiarized anybody. Uh well they do say imitation is the greatest form of flattery? Or something like that.

 

“Arthur?” says the boy dubiously, “Kind of a funny name for a dragon.”

 

Arthur huffs and says, somewhat testily, “Speak for yourself, _Mer_ lin. Like your name is any better.”

 

“My mother gave me that name!” says Merlin with surprising vehemence for someone who had been trembling in fear of him less than two minutes ago. “It’s a lovely name! Not like you would know, would you? Being a dragon and all. Do dragons even have mothers? I bet you just took your name from some poor sod you ate.” He gives Arthur a flinty-eyed glare of wary suspicion. “Is that why you’re chatting me up now? So you can steal my name after you eat me?”

 

Arthur snorts, and tries to ignore the tightening of his chest at Merlin’s words. “Who would want to steal your name? What a ridiculous idea,” he says icily, returning Merlin’s glare like for like through his slit-like reptilian eyes, except a thousand times more vicious. Merlin should know better than to engage in a glaring match with a dragon, Arthur thinks nastily. Unlike him, Arthur doesn’t actually need to blink.

 

Eventually, Merlin gives up on the glaring, just as Arthur knew he would, his gaze softening almost contritely. _His eyes are probably smarting_ , Arthur thinks vindictively. _Serves him right. Do dragons even have mothers, indeed!_

 

As Arthur lets the silence stretch, giving himself a smug little mental pat on the back for that win, Merlin starts looking around the cave uneasily, his gaze skittering over the bare rock walls and lingering upon the large nest of amazingly warm woolen blankets that Arthur has managed to accumulate for himself over the years- the second richest, in Arthur’s opinion, of his treasures, what little of them there are. Arthur, unlike other dragons, does not really have all that much in the way of a hoard. But hey, blankets are so much nicer to sleep on than jewels or precious artifacts of gold or silver. Wool, at least, isn’t hard or pointy and best of all- it tends to keep one snugly warm during cold winter nights. Arthurs loves those blankets. He really does.

 

Finally, the boy looks back up at Arthur and says, “So, you gonna eat me or what?”

 

“You don’t seem very troubled for someone who’s probably about to be eaten by a dragon,” Arthur observes matter-of-factly.

 

The boy has the grace to look somewhat discomfited.

 

“Well, uh... about that,” he mumbles, eyes shifty, “I do have an escape plan, you know. I wouldn’t just let myself get served up to some huge scaly monstrosity with a taste for skinny teenage boys without a plan, would I-” He comes to a stop abruptly, colour draining from his face as he realizes that he had just unwittingly called Arthur a ‘ _huge scaly monstrosity with a taste for skinny teenage boys’_ straight to his face.

 

It is almost painfully amusing to watch Merlin scramble over himself to cover up his verbal blunder. “But you aren’t- not at all! At least I hope you aren’t! I mean, you’re pretty huge and scaly and all that- no offence! But, you’re not a monstrosity and uh, you wouldn’t really like to eat skinny teenage boys, would you?“ Merlin trails off and laughs nervously.

 

Merlin, it seems, was one of those people who tended to ramble when they got nervous. It is strangely endearing.

 

Arthur taps a claw against his jaw and cocks his head at the human, pretending to ponder the question. He watches as Merlin sweats and begins to throw nervous glances towards the opening of the cave. Just as the boy starts edging his way towards the exit in what must be the most terribly obvious surreptitious wiggle ever, Arthur finally relents and lets out the chuckle he has been struggling to hold in, which somehow builds itself up into a nasty little rumble of draconic laughter that makes the stone of the cave vibrate ever so slightly and causes Merlin to quail a little amongst the sudden shower of falling dust and tiny bits of rock.

 

“Oh, quit trying to sneak,” he snorts, “You’re terrible at it, and I’m not going to eat you.” He opens his mouth wide in what he knows is his best evil draconic smile, exposing all his extremely sharp teeth, and delights in the way Merlin stares, eyes wide like some frightened little doe. It’s almost- ah, what’s the word for it?… _Adorable_.

 

“You would be too stringy,” he informs the boy, pretending to eye him critically, “Too much bone, and not nearly enough meat.” He nudges the boy with one claw and Merlin yelps shrilly as his stomach is poked gently, making Arthur chuckle even more. Merlin’s look of fear morphs into indignation as he glares at Arthur, something like realization dawning on his face. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” he says accusingly, eyes narrowing. “You were never intending to eat me at all!”

 

Arthur leans back on his haunches and chortles. “Took you that long to figure it out?” he says, “Did they send me the village idiot instead of the virgin?”

 

“Hey! I’m not an idiot!” cries Merlin indignantly, glowering furiously at Arthur. “You’re the idiot! You- you-“ he splutters to a floundering halt, reddening rather spectacularly, Arthur is amused to note- right up to the tips of his rather large ears, before blurting out almost triumphantly, “ _Clodpole!_ ”

 

Arthur snickers- as much as a dragon can snicker. Merlin glares at him furiously, utterly unafraid, even though Arthur could crush him in a second, fragile and human as he is, and it is so refreshing to have someone who actually dares to talk to him, to insult him even, rather than cower whimpering in a corner.

 

“That isn’t even a word,” he informs the boy dryly, pointing one claw at him, “And if it was a word, it would definitely apply more to you than me.”

 

Merlin stares at him bemusedly. “You are the strangest dragon I have ever had the misfortune of meeting,” he says.

 

Arthur grins at him. “And you are the strangest meal I have ever had the misfortune of almost eating. They say you are what you eat, after all, and I wouldn’t want to contract a virulent case of stupidity.”

 

“Don’t start that again!” says Merlin reproachfully, “I already know you never intended to eat me.” His frown turns almost thoughtful and he gazes at Arthur with startling intensity. “You’re not really an ordinary dragon, are you? For one, you seem more intent on talking me to death than eating me. And all those previous virgin sacrifices- you just let them go running back to the village, crying about how they managed to escape the big bad dragon. You never kill anyone, not even when they send the knights against you… you just beat the snot out of them and then dump them in some horribly embarrassing spot. You’re a completely rubbish dragon! You don’t actually want to hurt any humans, do you?”

 

Arthur’s tail twitches and he tells himself that the sinking, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach is most definitely _not_ anxiety. “Who says I don’t want to hurt humans?” he retorts, “Maybe I’m just toying with you. I could snap you up in an instant and you wouldn’t even be able to scream before I crushed your spine in my jaws.”

 

“But you won’t,” says Merlin firmly, his blue eyes so full of unswerving conviction that is almost painful for Arthur to meet his gaze.

 

_Is he really such a fool?_ Arthur thinks, _Does he think he knows me? I’m a dragon and he’s a human, and that’s all that ever will be_ … _that ever_ can _be._

 

He tries to ignore the bitterness that creeps up on him.

 

_I should probably eat him_ , he thinks nastily. _Just to prove him wrong._

 

But Arthur knows he will never do that, even if his conscience would permit him to. Not when Merlin- stupid, foolish Merlin who has only just met him and barely even knows him, is looking at him with such faith and sincerity, as though Arthur is not a dragon, not an enemy, but his fellow-- his _friend_.

 

It is almost painful, this feeling inside him, and Arthur cannot bear it. Maybe if he were a human, with a human heart, he would be able to handle this, perhaps even reciprocate. But Arthur is a dragon, a monster, and he doesn’t deserve Merlin’s pity or compassion. He doesn’t deserve to have Merlin look at him with such understanding and concern. Arthur is a dragon and dragons do not have friends.

 

Arthur turns away, and there is a faint hissing noise as the scales of his soft underbelly scrape against the stone. “Go,” he says, ignoring the way his voice seems to choke in his throat, and the heat gathering in his nostrils, the first faint stirrings of smoke and flame. “Go now and don’t come back.”

 

Behind him, he hears some rustling as Merlin shuffles slowly closer, and he mantles his wings over himself as he stares stoically at the cave wall, determined not to watch as Merlin leaves. He is so intent on his contemplation of the rock that he nearly yelps when he feels a small human hand come to rest tentatively upon his flank. Merlin’s tiny palm is warm against his scales, and as he grows accustomed to the touch, Arthur almost fancies that he can feel something- some strangely soothing sensation of warmth spreading out from that small point of contact into the rest of his body, relaxing his tensed up muscles. He tries not to think about how long it has been since he has had any human touch him, and how terribly good it feels.

 

“Whatever happened to you,” says the boy softly, and Arthur can hear the sincerity in his voice even if he cannot see it shining in his eyes, “I will do my best to make it right, I swear.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Arthur says, trying to ignore the painful clenching feeling in his chest. Dragons, it seems, are not immune to the cruel lures of hope.

 

“I don’t,” says Merlin, then the warm pressure on Arthur’s scales vanishes and Merlin is suddenly right in front of him, standing up on tiptoe to look straight into Arthur’s eyes. He smiles warmly, and his blue eyes are painfully earnest as he says, “I’ll figure out how to break your curse, and I’ll come back for you, Arthur. I promise.”

 

Then he is gone, slipping out of the cave like a shadow before Arthur can even recover from the overwhelming shock to call him back and ask how on earth he could possibly know about the curse.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh silly Arthur, of course Merlin knows. He has MAGIC. 
> 
> I was toying with the idea of making Nimueh Arthur's evil fairy godmother and having Ygraine's sigil be Arthur's magic thingy representing his humanity a la the rose in Beauty and the Beast, but urgh plot is so hard. HOW DO U PLOTS D: Ah well, we shall see.


End file.
